Iced Out: A Rival’s Sister Hockey Romance (Heston U Hotshots Book 1)

The house smells fantastic on Thursday afternoon. Mom loves to start prep early. By lunchtime, she’s cooking.

“If you’re only going to snack on goat cheese and olives without helping me, get out of my kitchen.” She whips my hand with a dish towel to keep me from snagging another stuffed olive. “Go keep Asher occupied.”

I grumble in protest, mouth too full of the appetizer cheese-cracker-summer sausage masterpiece sandwich I crammed in a moment ago. Bracing my hands on the island separating us, I chew furiously and gulp it down.

“Do you need help, though? Put me to work.”

“I’ll call you back in when I’m ready for you to carry all this food to the table.”

“Okay.”

I circle the island to kiss her head, then head for the living room where Asher’s playing video games.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, rapidly tapping buttons on the controller. “You were eating all the cheese again, weren’t you?”

“Maybe. Open. I snagged you a piece of pepperoni.”

He gasps, eyes wide. It’s comical to watch him open his mouth while watching what he’s doing in the game. I feed it to him and check my phone.

There are a few new messages in the group chat with the guys. A bunch are of the fresh snow that dumped across the northeast and some are photos of the spread on their tables. I press a fist to my mouth at Cameron’s and reply.

Easton: Good god, Reeves. That looks good. Is that fried chicken, too? What the hell.

Cameron: Dad’s going through another cooking phase and I’m living the life. Bringing the stuffed peppers recipe back with me. You’re all about to crown me king of the kitchen.

McKinley: Think I just came looking at that.

Theo: Dude, I’m fucking eating.

I snort. As much as I look forward to my future career, I love this team. These guys are the best brothers in the world.

Another photo comes through not long after, this time from Coach Kincaid. He’s got Eve, the head coach’s daughter, tucked against his side and they’re both grinning while Bauer tries to jump on them to be part of the action.

I sit up once it registers what’s going on in the photo. He proposed. They snuck around during my freshman year. I had to keep it quiet that I knew anything about their secret relationship when I accidentally caught them making out at the rink.

Easton: Holy shit, Kincaid. Congrats.

Noah: Yooooo! [confetti emoji]

Easton: Locking it down with Coach Lombard’s daughter.

Elijah: Nice.

Madden: Congrats.

Cameron: The man, the myth, the legend.

Noah: Did you use my suggestion?

Kincaid: No. Only sent this so you’ll stop sending me every viral proposal idea you see.

Easton: Don’t lie. You love us.

Kincaid: And I question why often.

Cameron: Fuck off, bro. Go enjoy the good news with your family.

Kincaid: Oh shit.

Easton: What?

Kincaid: I’m marrying Eve. That makes David my father in law.

I hammer the laughing emoji and send a line of them, swiping amused tears from the corner of my eyes.

Asher pauses his game. “Can we play Mario Kart?”

“Yeah.”

I stretch out on the couch and he sits on a pillow in front of it on the floor. We play three races and I win all but the last one, allowing him to beat me.

“I want to go back to playing the other one now,” Asher says.

“So you can win?” I prod him with my foot until he laughs.

“I like winning.”

“Me too, bud. Here.”

He takes my controller and switches to the first game he was playing. I end up scrolling social media until I see a random video about a goat that makes me think of Maya. Sitting up, I bring up her last text. She hasn’t said anything to me since yesterday when I sent her a photo of me and Asher skating on the frozen pond behind our house.

I don’t want a text. I want to hear her voice. No, I want to see her.

Hitting the FaceTime button, I wait to see if she’ll pick up, rubbing my chin absently.

The call connects and Maya fills my screen. Everything I mean to say flies out of my head at the sight of her. Those gorgeous hazel eyes stare back at me and her lips part. Her hair is twisted half up in a clip that makes me want to run my fingers into the part that’s left down. The sleeves of her sherpa jacket are pushed up to her elbows.

And she’s wearing my Heston University shirt that I gave her to wear at the party beneath it.

“Hey.” She peeks shyly at her parents in the background and leaves the kitchen to talk to me. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah. You too.” I swallow, rubbing at my chest. “Did you eat yet?”

“Not yet. It’ll probably be another couple of hours before we sit down for dinner. We always work around my grandfather’s medication schedule so he doesn’t get thrown off his routine.”

“Nice. We haven’t either. Mom makes a huge feast, but between Asher starting his human garbage disposal appetite phase and me, we eat the leftovers by Saturday.”

“Yeah, they don’t last long here with Ryan in the house. And my dad’s a midnight snacker.”

The edge of my mouth lifts. I’m enjoying getting to see this side of her. It feels like she’s letting me in. The fiery girl I split donuts with a month ago never would have told me any of this.

She hasn’t stopped moving since she answered the call, strolling from room to room. I catch a big family photo taken at sunset on a farm hung on the wall before she goes into a den to grab a piece of cheese.

The football game is muted on the flatscreen mounted above the mantel and her brother is visible in the background sprawled on the couch.

“Hold on, I have to put you down for a second. I need both hands.”

She spends a moment propping me against something so I have a front row seat to her making a cheese and cracker sandwich similar to my own masterpiece earlier. A stupid smile stretches across my face and I do nothing to hold it back.

“Looks tasty.”

She smirks. “It’s cheese, of course it’s delicious.”

While she pops it in her mouth, she picks the phone up, humming contentedly as she chews. Her brother appears at the edge of the screen when he stands.

“Is that Blake?” Donnelly leans over her shoulder, squinting at the camera. “What the hell? Why are you calling my sister?”

I blow a kiss. “Just to tell her I miss you.”

He grabs at her phone with an annoyed grunt. She laughs, elbowing him to evade him.

“Stop. Go away.”

“I’m stealing your phone later to delete his number from your contacts,” he says.

“I’d still have her number,” I point out cheerfully.

Donnelly’s brows flatten. “Blake, if you do anything to fuck with her, I’ll—”

Maya scoffs. “Okay, that’s enough of that, Ryan.”

She moves away to a different room. It feels damn good seeing her wearing my shirt while Donnelly’s jersey is still on the floor in my bedroom in Heston Lake, kicked into a corner.

“Nice shirt.” I waggle my brows.

Her eyes widen and she pinches the sides of the jacket in an attempt to hide what’s underneath. “What—? No, this is—I didn’t know this made it into my bag.”

“Yeah?”

Her tongue darts out to swipe across her lip. “I’ll give it back when I see you around campus.”

“Keep it. Looks way better on you.”

“I’ve been helping my parents get everything ready for dinner since I rolled out of bed this morning. I haven’t had time to get dressed.” Her cheeks turn pink. “I need to go change.”

“You slept in my shirt?”

Maya’s mouth pops open, the realization of what she implied dawning on her face.

“Yes.” She lifts her chin. “I like a big shirt to sleep in.”

Immediately, I’m picturing her sleepy and languid in my bed, wearing nothing but that shirt skimming her bare thighs. Fuck, that’s a nice thought.

“Mm, don’t tell me now, baby. Otherwise, I won’t be able to go anywhere.”

“Why?”

“I’m about to be stuck on the couch with the nearest pillow or blanket covering my lap because I’m imagining it.” My eyes hood at the way she reacts, her lashes fluttering and lips parting. “Now you’re definitely keeping it. You’ve claimed it, so it’s all yours.”

“Easton,” she blurts.

I like it when she gets flustered. It’s cute.

We’re interrupted by an older man she passes while she paces her house to talk to me. I recognize him from photos on her Instagram. He’s in an armchair with a walker next to it.

“There’s my chicken. What are you doing?”

There’s no question how much she loves him. She lights up at the nickname. He holds out an arm for her, smiling when she perches on the arm to hug him.

A pang echoes in my chest as I recall how she broke down crying in my arms because her grandfather is so important to her. I get it, I honestly do. Loss is a shock to the system and rocks the foundation of your entire world whether you’re able to prepare for it or not.

“Talking on FaceTime with a friend from school. This is Easton.” She angles the phone so he can see me better. “He plays hockey, too. Like Ryan. Easton, this is my grandpa.”

“Hi, sir. Nice to meet you,” I say.

He hums, studying me.

“Are you seeing my Maya?”

She jolts. We answer at the same time.

“Yes.”

“No, Grandpa.” When my answer registers, her eyes widen. “We’re friends.”

His gaze flicks between us. Although he has liver spots on his wrinkled skin and his eyes are milky with age, he sees right through it.

“You treat my girl right, you hear?”

I sit up straighter, fixing my hair so it lays flatter, but it’s hopeless. “Of course, sir.”

“Good.” He pats her leg. “She deserves the world. Take her horseback riding, she’s always liked that. Loves animals. And so good with them, too. You remember when you would get dropped off to visit me, chicken? You’d take my hand and wanted to see all the livestock.”

I nod, attention drifting to her bright red face. “She deserves everything. I won’t give her anything less.”

“You keep her happy.” He tips his head down to level me with a serious expression. “Otherwise, I’ve got a whole collection of hunting rifles on the farm.”

A surprised laugh punches out of me.

“Grandpa,” Maya protests. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll always treat her right,” I promise.

“Boys,” Mom calls from the other room. “Come help me. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’ve got to go,” I tell Maya reluctantly. “Text me?”

“Sure.” She gets up and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Bye.”

“See you soon,” I say.

She flashes a wry smile. “Okay, bye.”

The call ends. I sigh, running my fingers through my hair until my heart stops beating so hard.

“What’s that look on your face?” Asher asks.

“What look?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I dunno. Like happy, but weird.”

I swipe a hand over my mouth to hide my stupid smile. “I’m extra happy because we’re about to eat. Let’s go.”

We help Mom bring dishes to the table. She makes up a plate for Dad. It’s a tradition we keep at every holiday. I tense when she sets it next to her instead of where it should go.

She pulls out the seat at the head of the table. “Here, sweetheart.”

My chest constricts, making it difficult to breathe for a beat. I shake my head, straining to get the words out.

“No. That’s Dad’s spot.”

This started last year. I refuse to sit there every time she asks. The first time she pulled the chair out for me, a surge of grief welled up out of nowhere because I miss him.

It doesn’t feel right to sit where he always did.

She gives me a sad smile. “Okay. Wherever you want to sit is fine.”

“Smells so good.” Asher’s nose is almost in his potatoes. “Happy freaking Thanksgiving.”

I tousle his hair and sit down next to him. “You think you’re being sly with that.”

Mom reaches across the table for both our hands. We each clasp hers. “I love you, boys. I’m so glad we have another beautiful day together.”

“Love you too, Mom.” I squeeze her hand.

She squeezes mine back. “Let’s dig in. And for dessert, we have four kinds of pie.”

Asher echoes me, but he doesn’t get why we make it a point to say I love you. When Dad went out five years ago to get us ice cream during a snowstorm, he lost his life in a pile up on the highway. Losing him so suddenly, I learned how important it is to say goodbye since I never got the chance to say it to him.

He was gone and I live with that.

Every second counts.

Every moment could be the last.